Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
For Jagger, she’d just announced to two of the most important people in his life that he was her person.
So yeah.
A massive punch.
Awesome all around.
She returned her wineglass to the table.
When she sat back, Jagger tucked her tighter to his side.
Dutch cleared his throat.
Carolyn was twisting her wineglass back and forth by the stem.
It was Georgie, who had a flair with laying things out in an honest but thoughtful way, who stated, “That’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever heard.”
“I know, right?” Archie replied.
It was then, Carolyn rallied. “Sorry about your mom.”
Archie looked her right in the eye and said from the heart, “Thanks, sister.”
“I haven’t been to your shop, I heard it was great, but I’m kinda, you know,” her eyes darted to Jagger, then back to Archie, “on an epic money diet. But maybe the three of us girls could go out for coffee or something.”
“Hell no.”
That was Dutch.
And everyone looked at him.
He didn’t hesitate to explain.
“You are not instigating a Black Brothers Gossip Club right under our fuckin’ noses.”
Georgie burst out laughing.
Archie laughed too, but low.
Carolyn finally got some of the Carolyn Jag liked back, grinned unrepentantly at Dutch, and said, “You can’t stop us.”
“Girl, that was not the response,” Archie chided. “You just gave it all away. You should have said, ‘This is not all about you,’ when it would totally be all about them.”
More woman laughter.
Dutch looked at Jagger. “You got anything to say?”
He did.
“I have nothing to hide.”
“Do you have something to hide, darlin’?” Georgie asked her man.
Dutch made his point.
“If I did, it’d be only you I’d tell.”
“Right,” Georgie replied, giving the other women big eyes.
“Well, Archie’s cool, and obviously Georgie and I are cool, so can we have your permission to get together and not talk about the Black Brothers?” Carolyn requested.
“Knock yourselves out,” Dutch granted.
“Thank you, oh master, my master,” Georgie teased.
“That’s for later,” Dutch returned.
Georgie burst out laughing again.
Archie leaned further into him even as she reached for her wine again.
He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she wasn’t laughing this time, so he gave her a squeeze.
She glanced up at him.
“Family,” she said softly.
She didn’t have this.
Not with her brother.
He gave her another squeeze and mouthed, “Later.”
She nodded, looked away and took a sip of her wine.
* * * *
They were on her fire escape.
She had a bunch of pillows on the ground by the window to it that she tossed out so they could sit on them and lean against them.
It was late September, nights getting darker earlier, but regardless, it was late, dark, and they were outside, sitting and leaning.
Jagger against the building.
Archie, between his legs and against him.
She had his hand in hers and was fiddling with it, but her eyes were aimed through the railing, where you could see a sliver of the deep purple hues of the Rocky Mountains silhouetted against the night sky between some buildings.
She also had double stamps of approval.
Between then and now, Georgie had texted I’m in love with her! I want her to be MY girlfriend!
Dutch had texted She’s cool, brother.
He didn’t need the approval, but it was good to have.
Now, they were in a weird zone.
Not a bad weird, but still weird.
Before they went out, she’d got him a beer, made herself a vodka tonic, they settled in, and again they had a million things to say.
But neither of them was saying anything.
And it was…
Right.
Jag didn’t know if he’d ever been like this with a woman. He was always up for tying one on, working toward getting it on, then getting it on.
In other words, having a good time one way or another.
If he’d ever had quiet time with a woman, it definitely wasn’t on the first date.
Then again, he’d never taken a first date to his brother’s for dinner.
He took a slug from his beer, set it aside, then gently pulled away from her fiddling and took control of her wrist.
Evidence was suggesting she hung out there a lot, because she had a lamp on the floor by the window that she’d switched on and set outside.
And with that light, he traced the tiny drops inked into her skin that fell from her shoulder, down her biceps and inner forearm to her wrist, where there was a slightly less tiny puddle with an extremely tiny splash coming up from it.
“Probably don’t have to guess with that means,” he murmured in her ear.
“No,” she agreed.
He swept the pad of his thumb across the puddle of tears.
She turned her head and pressed her temple into his collarbone.
Jag went after her hand.
On the side middle joint of each finger, there were miniscule words, one for each finger, from index to pinkie: Live, Love, Laugh, Rock.
Fuck.
He was into this girl.
He ran his thumbnail under each like he was underlining them.